Jaded
by RedRogue
Summary: From farmer's daughter, to slave, to harlot, to the most popular attraction in all of New York. Too bad this China doll has fallen for the one man not interested in her... Brooklyn's own, Spot Conlon. Undertones of Moulin Rouge. Caution! Adult Content
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**Those of you who have read my last Spot story, _On the Grounds of Brooklyn, _I must say first off—this new story is nothing like it. Even still, enjoy:**

**-**

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

-

True love.

As wonderful as it sounds, sadly, it does not exist—at least, not in turn-of-the-century China. It is a myth, a piece of folklore set for fairy tales to send children to sleep and give them hope in a dream of something better.

And as such, when I was a child, I fully believed in these lies in story form, immersing myself in every love story I could lay my hands on. They were few, and hard to come by, being a poor farmers daughter, so I resorted to making my own. Soon I began to crave the stage, performing for my siblings, then my family, and then friends. I loved every second I could in their attentions.

When I was twelve, the famine came. My father's entire crops were lost, and we found ourselves begging for food, my mother and I, while my father sold everything he owned until there was nothing left to sell.

Except for me.

A very old man named Fin Hwang, had cast his eye on me as he past by my mother and I in the streets begging, and made an offer no farmer in their right mind could refuse.

Now, I had never seen my reflection, though my mother and father always had told me I was too pretty for my own good. I realized now, they had been right.

I was soon sold to this rich man named Hwang, who had enough money to last through seven famines and never feel the difference. Why he wanted a poor farmer's daughter as a slave, I'll never know.

I was so young, and had not yet menstruated, and was therefore too young to be adequate for his sexual pleasure. Still, I was violated in other ways. The only way I made it through this unfamiliar torture was with the help of his wives and other concubines, and thus I was able to peaceably live with them, accepted as one of their own.

That is, until I finally did become fully woman, when I was thirteen. It was one of the worst years of my life. As soon as the old man heard the news, I did not leave his bedchamber for weeks on end. Then the wives soon saw that I was the old man's favorite, and grew jealous when he doted expensive gifts on me.

I lived a life of fear and servitude, alone for three more years since, ravished by a stranger time and time again. Never did the man marry to me officially, he just kept me in a room and took me out when I was desired. I grew used to being used as a pretty plaything, and soon I valued my body no more than a person would a cheap article of clothing, and when I was taken in bed, I was as limp and still as a doll of porcelain.

When I was fifteen, I became with child. Ashamed of the fact that I had not bore a son, the old man meant to take it and throw it in the rivers. I bawled my eyes out, feeling a large affection for my little infant girl, but still he didn't listen. Then ironically, in the stress of his anger, his heart gave out, and he fell down dead instantly.

About ten of the prettier concubines, and myself, were sold again to a slummy whorehouse. When I was working the other harlots took care of my child for me, though the fact that I the child was mine (or that I had a child at all), was sworn to secrecy.

To this day I don't know what I did right in that awful place, but the Head Maid said I was 'cursed' with a fair face and a natural talent for dance, and thus I became very popular among the men there. Head Maid went out of her way to teach me song and dance, and good etiquette to 'refine away my farmgirl manners' and be further able to please men. Between practicing this, taking care of a newborn child, and fulfilling the desires of men, my plate was full.

There are rankings in every business, I have found, and because I took things so seriously, I soon gained power. I was not above some, but still was very powerful in my new skills. Yes, that's right: skills.

Some of the higher-ranking, more skilled harlots were sold to America, the land of opportunity, of new beginnings. I longed to go there myself one day, and worked hard toward that goal. One of the skills necessary in order to go to America was to learn English, so I studied it hard, and then passed everything I learned onto my daughter. It was a hard business, but I hadn't much better to do with my spare time.

When I turned eighteen, my little girl and me were finally given the golden ticket—the chance to build a new life. We were put on a boat and shipped off the New York within my birthday week.

This is where the real story begins.

-

**This should be the most graphic chapter for a while. I'm trying hard to keep this as clean as possible while still getting my point across. New chapter coming very soon. Please review.  
Signed,  
--RedRogue**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**:

-

When I stepped off the boat and onto American grounds, I knew that my life was never going to be the same. The streets were bustling with people, everywhere in nice American clothing, and big hats. I was immediately informed that we were ported in Brooklyn harbor, and that it was a rather rowdy town, so we were to be sure not to linger.

Head Maid wasted no time exiting the ports and heading right into the heart of the city, heading for a long bridge so that we might escape the danger of the rough town. She took us straight through in a hurry, all of us walking in a line like chicks to a mother hen. I found myself having to run to catch up many times, through all the noises and people and sights that distracted me. My clothing seemed so out of place, and the fact that my robes were so bright in color did not help matters any.

People who were selling things were yelling all around, trying to get me to buy newspapers and fish and the like. I longed to stay and examine the merchandise, and to meet some of the people, but Head Maid walked so fast I barely had time to spare a glance.

Once, a large oncoming crowd of newspaper boys weaved into our little group of girls, some of them pinching a few of us, and laughing afterwards. As instinct, of course most of us flirted right back.

Then a short newsboy near the front of the group plowed straight into me as hard as a bull as I passed, surprising me that such a small man would hurt so much. He seemed greatly irritated by the fact I had not jumped out of his way, mumbling something about me "being blind behind squinting eyes" of which I took great offense.

"Pardon me!" I said with a thick Chinese accent over my poor English, putting my hands on my hips. "I _heard_ that!"

He glared straight back with eyes made of ice and fire all mixed together.

"You were meant to," he said coolly, then continued on with his friends.

"Whores," he uttered to one friend, shaking his head in frustration.

I frowned at the rude young man, and was slightly disturbed by the fact that he knew what I was. I was not dressed in any way that would hint this to a stranger, and it confused me as to how he figured it out so quickly. I shook the thought away, and caught up with my own group.

**-**

The teahouse was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. Even though I knew it was just another house of harlotry, it was also the most sophisticated and high-ended place in the field. This was the best of the best, and a small part of me felt proud to be associated with it.

Entering it felt like I was entering a palace, or what I could imagine entering a palace felt like. The floor was wooden, and the windows were hidden behind fine silk, and in the center of it all, a place I knew I really belonged: a stage, complete with velvet red curtains and enough lights to make the sun jealous. It was thing only thing I stared at as we walked on. The very thought of performing made my heart lift, because at that time I had no idea what that stage was actually used for. In the old teahouse I worked at there was no scale of glamour put into harlotry such as this place, and it was very simple and crude.

"Don't worry," Head Maid said, noticing my longing for the stage. "You'll be there soon enough."

**-**

**Please review.   
Signed, **

**--RedRogue**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**:

-

Times did not get simpler as I had hoped. Again I had to hide the fact that I had a little girl, who by now was two years old. Before I had enough money for my own place, I hid her in the storage closet, and helped her make dolls out of the straw from the brooms, complete with yarn hair from the mops. I didn't bother to bind her feet, since I soon saw that people didn't care about that here, and sometimes it was even considered unattractive. In learning this, I unbound my own too.

My little Mei-Li. I pitied the girl with my full heart, and valued her life more than even my own.

Then one day, Alice, one of the other girls I worked with, found Mei in the cupboard. I begged her silence, in which she readily agreed, though I was doubtful of her loyalty.

As I feared, soon everyone knew about Mei except Head Maid, which I figured was the end of everything. Then I realized that the others would not tell Head Maid, and even _helped_ hide the child from the old woman, saving Mei from being discovered many times.

I met a variety of American men in that place, and even a few young boys. Some were handsome… others were not so handsome. Some were complete gentlemen… and others were not so gentlemanly. Some had plenty of experience… while others did not have any at all.

Another year passed, and I was now sixteen and of age for a more serious line of my work, and promotion. Only, I didn't realize it until it was too late.

Head Maid sent me out on an errand to the linen shop, down near Manhattan square. It was a normal errand, but one I was learning to hate, simply because of the shop-owner, by the name of George Crandall. He was a large man, fat and with a bald, round head, and it was just my luck he had grown a liking to me. So I took my daughter along, smartly thinking the man wouldn't dare try something with the little one standing right there.

I found the material quickly, keeping my daughter close at hand while the man tallied up my costs.

"Three forty, my dear," he slurred lazily. I noticed a bottle of brandy near him, and knew it was time to go.

"Come along, Mei," I said to my girl, and reached out my hand to grab my purchases. Suddenly George slapped his hand upon mine.

"Hey," he said to me. "You want to make some money?"

I furiously yanked my hand out from under his, knowing immediately what was going on. I had been set up.

"I not know what Head Maid promise you," I said through my poor grasp of English. "But my work is at teahouse, if you wish see me there."

"I can't wait that long, darling," he said, staring at me hungrily.

"You must stop yourself, sir," I said. "My daughter is here…"

"Then it's about time she gets educated in her future occupation."

That's when he grabbed me and pulled me on the counter. My daughter screamed. Struggling was not much use, but I did so anyways. I couldn't let this happen—not for anything. Not in front of my daughter.

Little Mei was crying now, and I was calling out to anyone who'd hear. George hovered over me, his mind engulfed in his malevolent kisses, so much that he didn't even see the man enter the shop and casually walk over to the counter.

The short man, who was really only a boy, tapped George on the shoulder. George was not happy with being interrupted at _all_.

"What do _you_ want--" he started, but no sooner had he opened his mouth, that he found a fist hammering into it.

George fell from the counter to the floor, but the boy wasn't done. He naturally walked around behind the counter, and picked up the older man's collar, and decked him again.

"You like roughin' up girls?" the boy asked. "Answer me, you horny bastard! You beg her forgiveness, hear?"

"I'm not sayin' nothin' to any--!" George began, but the boy socked him again.

"What was that?" the boy demanded. "Run that by me again?"

The man scowled, but got the message.

"I said _sorry_—"

Another airborne fist found the old man's face.

"One more time, lowlife," the boy said harshly.

"I said I was sorry!" he shouted through his pain. "For god's sakes, kid, let me alone!"

"Shut up!" the young man yelled, punching the man again, and then again. And again. Soon George's face was covered with blood, but still the boy's fist kept flying. Mei began to cry again, and I covered her eyes from the horrible sight. At that moment I couldn't figure what was worse, me getting raped in her sight or a man getting beaten to death in front of her.

"STOP NOW!" I yelled to the boy. "Please! You making girl upset!"

The young man stopped and looked at me, and then at Mei. He kicked George aside, and simply walked out of the store and on his way. Shocked, I grabbed my daughter's hand and pursued him.

"Sir!" I called, but the man weaved through the crowd with a practiced skill far greater than my own.

"Young sir, please!"

I caught up with him and grabbed his sleeve. He looked down at my clenched fist in disgust.

"Are you touching me?" he asked me. I let go at once.

"I—I thank you, sir," I stammered. "Anything… I do to repay…"

His glare narrowed at me, a glare I immediately recognized. That boy on the docks… in Brooklyn… Fear overcame me for some unknown reason, but I tried hard not to let it show.

"What's your name?" he asked me harshly, as if rushing me to answer quickly.

"Jia-Li," I replied at once.

"You owe me," he said decidedly.

I nodded in agreement, not knowing what I was getting myself into.

He walked off, saying nothing more, even though a part of me was eternally grateful. Whatever this boy had in mind, I felt prepared for it. But something told me he wasn't interested in my areas of expertise. Maybe someday he would find me to claim his debt, maybe not… and that was the alluring mystery of this man. I smiled after him. For some reason, I looked forward to that day.

**-**

**Even _I'm_ getting impatient to get this business under way. The main plot hasn't even started! Next chapter coming soon. Please review.  
Signed, **

**--RedRogue**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

-

Another year passed, and I began to forget about the young boy and the promise I had made to him. Soon my work, my studies, and my little girl were my life and I had little room for much else. The other women sometimes scoffed at me when I had my face buried in a book, commenting that it was a waste of time for a woman like me. They didn't know that their words made me all the more determined. This life was not forever. I would escape all this before my daughter was old enough to comprehend this world. As a result of my studies, I saw my English vastly improve, to where my accent was almost completely gone, and my grammar almost all corrected. My speech fit in as an American now, which pleased Head Maid.

The night of the benefit came. The mayor had decided to hold a celebration and anniversary, and in so doing had decided to hold a fund-raiser for the town profit. A few ladies would stand on the stage and contribute to what he liked to call: 'Donations in exchange for the benefit of lady company.' In reality, it was simply a whore auction for town charity. It was only the first one like this, so it got around town quickly among lowlives and street rats. Since it was so young an event, the turnout was surely going to be small, which suited me just fine.

Head Maid lined us all up for the choosing the day before the auction, scanning each of us closely to see who was worthy enough. Volunteering for this event paid well, so I was certainly hoping she would choose me, since all I needed for schooling was around twenty more dollars, and this would certainly make a nice dent toward that end goal.

"What's your name?" Head Maid asked when she came to me. She asked me this many times, since in her old age her memory was very slippery.

"Jia-Li," I replied promptly.

"That's no good," the Head Maid said with disapproval. "Your stage name now Jade. How long have you work here?"

"Many years now, Head Maid."

"I don't remember you," she said harshly. "But you in. Go stand with others."

I didn't need to be told twice.

-

The night of the auction had come, and all of the girls rushed from room to room to get last minute touch-ups, accessories, or any other fixings they required. I, on the other hand, took one look in the mirror, deemed myself satisfied, and patiently took a seat. Mind you, this was not because I thought myself perfect. Far from it. I just put on my make-up, my nice robes, and sat and wondered what else I could possibly do.

I did not get to sit around to figure it out, either. Head Maid scurried along and herded us to the auction stage in no time flat.

Again, all in a row we stood, waiting for our names to be called and our chance to sell ourselves. If I had known any better, I would have thought this the most morally repulsive thing I had ever done, but the fact still stood that I _didn't_ know any better. This was the life I had led my entire life.

One by one, the girls were escorted from the stage and out of the auditorium one by one, of course the prettiest ladies obtaining the largest profits.

Then when it came to be my turn next, and suddenly I fell as nervous as ever before. My knees buckled under me, and my palms grew sweaty. Here I went again, with the panic attacks. Lately they had been coming just before a job. I know not when they started or why they had chosen now to come, but they were currently a bad habit I couldn't seem to break.

"And sold! To the nice gentlemen at the bar," the auctioneer said quickly. "Next we have…" he quickly scanned his notecards. "The lovely China doll Jade! And what a gem here, an experienced girl who needs a man who wants a good time. Who's our first bidders?"

The panic was worse now. My mind swarmed of different times I had been ravished by many different men. I realized now that I had only lived a short life. I was surely too young to have been claimed by so many. Dread began to mix in with the panic.

"Yes, four dollars? Do I hear four twenty?"

Then I thought of my little girl. It was for her. It was all for her. She need to eat. She needed a warm bed. She needed security. It was all for her…

"Sold! To the young newsie in the back," the auctioneer announced. At the mention of the word 'newsie', my mind whipped back to the present, and I was reminded of the promise I had once made to a so called 'newsie'. I searched the crowd for the only familiar face I knew outside of this house.

_Those eyes_, I thought. They were nowhere to be found. I then saw my winner, who had just raised his hand. A sandy-blond haired boy, with a blue newsboy hat and a plaid shirt. Not him.

I reluctantly stepped off the stage to the boy, and the few friends who had gathered with him. A sense of uncertainty swam through me, of where they were taking me and what they were going to do, until I sadly thought:

_Nothing I haven't experienced before._

So why was I so afraid of my lifetime profession all of a sudden? I tried my best to shake it off as they boys laughed to one another about the other girls won in the auction, and then talked approvingly of their own prize: me.

"She's so quiet," I heard one whisper negatively in reply.

"Just the way I like 'em," another commented.

"Think she's a mute?"

With that remark they all looked at me curiously as we walked.

"Aren't ya gonna ask where we're going?" one finally spoke to me.

"No need," I retorted. I was theirs for the night anyway, no matter where they took me to do their business; it didn't matter to me as long as I was home by morning light.

But the farther we walked, the more my nerves took the toll. I wondered why this boy and his friends wouldn't just take me already and get it over with. The calm before their storm bothered me.

Soon we arrived at a house, some sort of a boarding house, it seemed. Loud noise was heard inside. All, much to my discontent, the voices of boys. There was a regular party in there, and I could only hope I wasn't the favor.

"Wait here," the boy who bought me said, and opened the door to the lodge house, leaving me behind with his three friends. They winked and smiled at me like the ruffians they were, but I didn't pay them much notice.

"Quiet!" the blondy boy's voice was heard just inside. "Pipe down, all a' youse!"

The noise died down at this.

"Alright. I'm bringin' a lady in here."

Whoops and wallops followed, in which case they had to be simmered down once more. I shifted my weight impatiently in the cold outside the door.

"Just remember to keep your hands to yourself, alright!"

Cheers arose, and the door opened to let me inside. There seemed to be dozens of boys, of all ages, colors, and manners. Like commanded though, most kept their hands to themselves, and simply catcalled as I passed them.

The blond boy led me up a set of nearby stairs, a rickety set made of dark decaying wood. The long stretch of hall was the same, and the beige paint clung to the walls for dear life. At the end of the hall, the blond opened the creaky door and instructed me to wait inside. He warned me not to go anywhere, and then simply left me alone.

It was a poorly stocked room, small like a closet, with only a dented mattress on a shaky metal frame and a chipped old armoire. On the top of the armoire was the familiar style hat that a newsie wore, made of itchy gray tweed.

But it was the breathtaking moonlight that drew me to the window. Outside was a wonderful view of a large river, and an even larger bridge. That's when I knew where I was, without even being told.

"Nice view, huh?" a boy said behind me, making me jump in fright. I didn't turn to him, just kept my gaze on the sights. In the reflection of the window glass I could make out a shadow of a boy in the doorway, merely a silhouette against the light of the hall streaming from behind him. His arms were crossed, and he leaned on the doorframe casually, as if he had strange women in his bedroom every day.

"Yes," I finally replied.

At last, I felt it time to turn around and look at the boy in the face. My eyes locked onto a pair of icy eyes, ones immediately recognized.

"You?" I said in confusion. "What…"

He frowned at me, most likely recognizing me too, then rubbed the pressure points on the bridge of his noise, as if the sight of me gave him a headache.

"This is _real_ funny, guys," he muttered frustratedly under his breath. He locked eyes with me again.

"So _you're_ my birthday present, huh?" the newsboy said to me, as if I had all the answers. In which, of course, I most certainly had none. I just shrugged. I didn't realize it then, but my nervousness had abandoned me. It was as if when I was around this man, who had saved me once already, nothing too horrific could happen again.

I had to admit though, under his looming gaze, I felt very uncomfortable. He did not scan my body down nor shy away from looking at me. Instead, those blue eyes stared at my face with no mercy.

"Well, sit down."

Every time he opened his mouth his harsh voice alarmed me. It was loud and commanding seemingly without any effort behind it. It was just the way he was.

I obeyed him, sitting on the edge of his bed with caution. I apprehensively awaited any commands, or even advancements from him, for his stillness was disconcerting. I addressed it, for fear of disappointing him. Some men need the women to act first, as I knew.

"Will you sit?" I asked him, trying to make my voice inviting.

"How's the little girl?" he asked me, in an abrupt change of subject. I was surprised he even remembered Mei was there that day in the fabric shop.

"Well," I replied promptly, and a little confused again. "She is well. Will you come over to sit?"

"You're English has gotten better, huh?" he changed the subject again. "Jia-Li, was it?"

"My name is Jade now."

"Well, '_Jade_'," he said, putting down the cane I didn't realize he held in his hand. "Whores ain't really my thing."

Oh, how his voice dripped with disdain, as if he found even being in my presence tainting. That was probably why he lingered in the doorway like he did, for fear of being infected by me. This response surprised me, though I tried not to react.

"Why not?" I asked just to humor him.

"Too many fingerprints," he replied just as swiftly.

I was now aware of the extent his distaste, and did my best to remedy it. I had to admit I felt a little anxious to get him in bed by now.

"I assure you, I am not like most harlots. I am sure if you give me a try I might prove you wrong."

"Shut _UP_, would you?" Spot snapped at me, which made me recoil quickly. "Damn, woman! Haven't ya been in a room with a guy with your dress still on before?"

"I would not feel I have earned my pay."

"Hey, Spot?" the blond kid returned with a smile. "What's with the loud voices?"

"How'd he manage to get in an argument with a _mute_ girl?" some boy beyond sight called in.

"Now, why don't we _close_ this door," blondie suggested. "And let her wish ya a happy birthday, eh Spot?"

"Beat it, Sweeper," Spot commanded boomingly, then slammed the door in his face. That's when he shed his boots and began to unbutton his shirt, while mumbling complaints to himself. At this, my heart began to pump out of my chest.

"Stupid kids," he mumbled as his hands undid the fastens of his shirt. "They never listen. Always have something to say."

He tossed his shirt aside, then pulled his dirty undershirt over his head and then stood before me. I didn't breathe nor move. I could only stare at his chest and arms, for in being such a small man, it came as a surprise that he was certainly made of hard muscle.

There were few men whose looks I came to be impressed by in my profession. He definitely made the list.

Perhaps, even the top.

"Alright," he said coldly to me. "I'll let you earn your damn pay."

I gulped for my mouth had suddenly gone dry.

**-**

**Sorry I haven't posted in a longer time than I am surely allowed, but I have so many other stories that have captured my immediate attention, and this one has so many plot points that need to be outlined. But alas, I can't help returning to Spot. So, if you would please review… and receive my utmost thanks… and this story just might revive itself.  
Signed,  
RedRogue**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

-

I did my best to regain my composure at the shirtless boy before me, and scolded myself mentally for acting juvenile. He was a client, and I had to be sure to treat him as one, and nothing more.

In reply to Spot's advances, I in turn took the chopstick from my hair and let my dark locks fall to my shoulders. My hair was long, and covered me like a black curtain. I stood before him, still fully clothed, but still feeling utterly naked under his stare.

I stared at the floor, waiting for him to take the next step. It was all I could manage to keep myself upright, as terror began to come over me again. I could see clearly now how horrible a life I truly held, as Spot had now made me come to realize. I was a whore, just like he said. Nothing more than a paid toy. This was not the life I had wanted for myself, and who would? I had wanted the life of the stage. What had become of my dreams? Women were not made to be treated so. It was…

Unnatural.

Oh, and these thoughts made my knees buckle under me, suddenly so terrified of this man before me and his judgmental eyes. I was scared of what was surely coming next, and the more he just stood there, the more I grew panicked.

Knowing I had to power through this unfamiliar fear, I sought out to get the job done. I went to him, placing my hand upon his bare chest very awkwardly. He, in turn, put his face agonizingly close to mine and stayed there for several moments, his breathing forced.

Then he let his arms slide around my middle, his palms pressing gently against the small of my back, pulling me against him.

Then he devoured my mouth like he owned it, which in all actuality was true enough.

He was too much to handle. His entire body was threatening me. His force of weight made me step backwards until my back hit wall, which only made the terror increase tenfold, and I began to lose it. Oh, the raw fear that tingled through me, making my body shake no matter how much I willed it not to. I winced with fright as he grabbed the tie to my robe, his mouth still connected to my face.

It was then I involuntarily whimpered in fear, tears springing to my eyes.

He suddenly pulled back, gripping my chin roughly look me in the eye.

"What's the mattah?" he demanded. "You're a whore, ain't ya? Don't you do this kinda stuff all the time?"

"I…" I stammered unsure of how to answer him. I was confused by my reaction as well, since I had thought for sure I had become a stoic machine in bed. I had figured once I fell back to the routine that this job should be easy. Yet somehow, it felt wrong with a job I was actually _attracted_ to. It made it all seem too personal.

"I'm sorry," I spat out. "I do not know what is wrong with me."

Spot frowned at me, his eyes narrowing at me as if he was reading my mind again. Then he looked to the window, as if hoping a solution to all of this would be found there. I had displeased him; I just knew it. If word of this got to Head Maid, I was in big trouble for certain.

"Get your stuff together," he commanded. "I'm takin' you back."

"Please," I begged, suddenly more fearful at the thought of going back to Head Maid untouched than anything else. "Give me one more chance…"

Spot shook his head insistently.

"I don't have _time_ to argue with ya," he shot back.

I bit my lip and didn't move. I cast my eyes to the floor.

"But I _owe_ you," I said in a low voice.

Spot froze and looked upon me with narrow eyes. As I began to undo my robe, he grabbed my hand.

"Not like this, you don't," he retorted. "_I'll_ be the one to tell you when and how you can pay me back. This ain't it."

He led me back down the stairs, much to the surprise of his fellow newsboys, who fell silent at his presence.

"That was fast woik there, Spot," the blond one was bold enough to say.

Spot cast him a harsh look and the blond immediately shut his mouth. Spot let go of my hand so he could grasp his cane.

"Foist one's free, boys," Spot warned. "If anyone else has something t' say they won't ever speak _again_, ya hear me?"

His men nodded in reply. Spot grabbed my wrist again and together we left out through the front door.

"You- you're taking me back yourself?" I stammered in confusion.

"I don't trust my boys with youse," he explained roughly. "They might be tempted to get their money's worth— now shut up."

So I did. We walked for a long time in silence, with only our footsteps on the cobblestone streets making any sounds.

"I'm sorry," I confessed to him at long last. He acted as if he didn't hear me.

-

I didn't see a trace of Spot again for many months. All the while, my status began to grow. I went from a house harlot to an actual stage act. I was also allowed to 'troll', which really meant I could work the floor as a barmaid and stick around to enjoy the drinks with the men before heading up.

There were a few instances were I had been ripped off by a man, getting no pay for services, in which case the rules around the house began to evolve, making the men pay in advance. With the stricter rules, and the growing numbers of customers, the place was kicked up from a slum whorehouse to a 'place of indulgence', and the class of our customers changed to solidify the transformation. It enabled me to hold my head up a little higher around town.

Soon, I even had 'regulars': those select few who came specifically to see me, and Head Maid took notice.

One of these men went by the name of Snyder. He was an older gentleman, white hair and a bit overweight, with a strong eerie presence about him. I didn't like him much as a customer, he was rough and his eyes gave me the creeps, but he tipped extremely well so I didn't dare complain.

What I didn't know was that he was the warden to a local juvenile hall. It was a fact that was going to cause some trouble for me and a certain Brooklynite that would soon find his way into the teahouse…

-

**Please review.  
Signed,  
--RedRogue**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

-

It was a rainy night that fateful evening. The piano player was dancing his fingers across the keys in a lively tune, keeping the atmosphere lighthearted. I served drinks to the men as naturally as breathing, smiling at their wandering eyes and winking at their flattery. It was all acting to me, playing the part, all a preparation for the stage… the singing, the drama, and the big finale.

Then _he_ walked in. My 'regular', Mr. Snyder.

Now, since our teahouse had recently upped its social class and status, there was a lot less actual lovemaking involved, which suited me fine. What this regular came to see was the show, and for me to sit beside him and serve him drinks, and to whisper lies into his ear with my now over-accentuated Chinese enunciations.

Soon it was time to perform. I had spent all week learning a particular dance popular with the Americans called the Can-Can, and was all to ready for my first stage performance. I graciously took my leave of the Warden, and went backstage to change.

Tonight was the night. The warden had paid quite a lovely bit of money to claim for the first time. Tonight… was the _fateful_ night. It had been at least a year since I had last been bedded, and I had to admit I was nervous that I was out of practice.

Once in my dress, I checked the storage closet for Mei-Li. She was happily playing inside with a new straw/mop doll creation she had made, a single candle burning on the floor.

My angel. My best friend. I picked her up and gave her a hug, commanding her to stay her like a good girl.

"See mommy dance?" she asked sweetly.

"No, dearest," I said, setting her back down on the floor. "This isn't rehearsal—this is the real thing, so you have to stay here until I say you can come out. Charlotte will be by later to give you supper and play with you while I work. I'll come back later tonight, though, I promise."

She agreed like the perfect child she was. After that, I was called to stage.

The Can-Can was tiring and fast paced, but my kicks were splendid since I was quite limber. My good friend Anne sang a beautiful chorus, a lead role in our play that I vowed to achieve soon. But during the show, something caught my eye.

Or rather, some_one_.

It was him. The Brooklynite. Spot Conlon himself.

He had just entered through the dark doorway, a cigarette in his lips and his trademark cane slung on his hip. He was dressed differently, more groomed; gone was the newsie hat, and the ratty shirt and in it's place slacks and slicked-back hair. Obviously he had not randomly wandered off the street. He had planned this.

He seemed a little uncertain at first, like he felt out of place, but after a moment or so his stable confidence returned full force, and he helped himself to a seat. One of our girls came and offered him a drink, and he took it, passing her a tip and sending her off without allowing her to thank him properly.

His eyes were fixed on the show, and though I knew he must recognize me up here, he showed no outward indication of this.

I poured my heart out into my performance, dancing and singing like no rehearsal could compare. Head Maid even seemed pleased.

I directed most of my attention through the chaotic dance to Mr. Snyder, who was the one I needed to worry about tonight. He was boosting my career, surely, and I had make sure he knew that his investment was worth it. It was certainly hard to force through my distraction, knowing that the handsome newsie had found his way here and thus plagued my head with questions. Why was he here? Could he really be here to see me? Perhaps he had seen the posters that bragged of tonight's debut. Or perhaps not.

For whatever reason he was here, he was making me lose my focus. Soon even the warden grew curious of what was drawing my attentions away from him.

That's when trouble began to brew. His eyes locked onto the boy's, and he looked at him with narrowed eyes, probably wondering where he had seen him before. Because of Spot's groomed look, he must've looked quite different than how the warden saw him, and so it took several moments for the warden to try and figure it out.

I put two-and-two together before Mr. Snyder could. This man was the Warden of the Refuge. Spot was a notorious leader of Brooklyn. Somehow, I sensed that the two should not co-mingle.

In an act of rescue, I leaned off the small stage to direct the warden's gaze back to me. I winked flirtatiously, and began to ride up my skirt to show him a little more leg. It did the job.

As I danced for the older man, I caught Spot's gaze and motioned with my head to the stairs to the right. Finally sighting the man I was dancing for, he got it quickly, and ducked through the closest door to him, which happened to be the door to backstage.

Soon, the song ended, and I leaned to Mr. Snyder's ear telling him to wait for me upstairs.

"Let me change into something more suiting to the occasion," I said suggestively. "And I'll be along soon."

The man's piercing gaze fell to my chest, then back to my eyes. He hungrily agreed, but strongly hinted that he wasn't the most _patient_ man.

After that I quickly headed backstage, where Spot was waiting by the door, leaning against its frame and playing with a small marble between his fingers. Again, he acted as if it was exactly where he belonged.

"Thanks for the tip, Jia-Li," he said smoothly. The other girls, finally noticing there was a man in their midst, began to squeal and scream. I shushed them immediately.

"He is a friend!" I explained to them.

"_Am_ I?" he said with pleased surprise.

"You _know_ you can't have a _man_ friend in this place!" Anne hissed at me. The other girls seemed to have the same thought in their heads.

"The warden would've arrested him if I didn't," I replied. "I didn't want to make a scene on our debut night, see?"

"Well, get _rid_ of him," Anne insisted.

"Or better yet," said a redhead named Margaret. She was one of us who truly enjoyed her work, and she stepped forward with a swagger, scanning Spot up and down seductively. "Allow _me_ to take care of him."

Spot put his marble back in his pocket and stood up straight. I was about to interfere, but Spot spoke first.

"I don't have any money," Spot informed her.

"Who said anything about _money_, handsome?" she replied huskily. I found myself immediately enraged by her audacity.

"Meg," I stepped between them. "He has made it very clear to me that he doesn't like whores. Just leave him alone."

"Gee," Spot said. "I wonder what I'm doin' in a _whorehouse_ then. I must be lost."

I turned around and looked at him in wonder and confusion at his change of heart.

Suddenly a hand grabbed me and jerked me back around. It was Charlotte. The same Charlotte who was supposed to me looking after my Mei-Li.

"Charlie—what are you doing here?" I demanded.

"Mei's gone," she said breathlessly.

"What?" I said in shock. "Where is she?"

"I don't know—some guy came in the storage closet and then ran off with her. I'm sorry—I tried to stop him, but--"

I saw Spot grab a hold of his cane.

"Which way did he go?" he demanded. Charlotte, just realizing he was standing there, was startled for a moment.

"Who are--?" she began, but was interrupted once more.

"Which _WAY_ did he _GO_?" Spot forcefully asked again.

"Out the back door!" she answered fearfully. I grabbed Spot's hand and led him through the girls.

"Come, I'll show you," I said worriedly.

"Jade-- wait!" Anne protested, grabbing my wrist to stop me. "What about the warden?"

I bit my lip, torn between my heart and duty for only a moment.

"This is just _little_ more important, Anne. Cover for me?"

With that I rushed out with Spot, running to the back door, still fully in costume, but I didn't care. There was only one thing on my mind, and that was my little girl.

"Hey, Jia-Li," Spot said as we ran. "How old are you?"

"My name is _Jade_," I said anxiously as my eyes scanned the empty night streets fruitlessly. "And why do you ask?"

"You seem a little young to have a kid-- I just wondered."

"I'm eighteen, and you?"

"Same," he replied.

My heart was in utter pain, my stomach in knots, fearing for my Mei. My head couldn't wrap around the situation. Why would someone come for Mei? How would they know where I was hiding her?

"Jade!" I heard a voice behind me call. I turned around to see Anne chasing after us. "Wait!"

"Anne, what is it?" I asked breathlessly. "You're supposed to be covering for me!"

"It's no use," Anne explained. "Meg just told us that she tattled on you to Head Maid. They had Mei taken away to a home… She's gone, Jade."

My chest seemed to cave in. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I could barely breathe.

"Jade," Anne went on. "You'd better get back to Snyder, before you get in any more trouble."

I looked to Spot, almost instinctively. He was frowning, as usual, and he put his cane back into his belt loop with a sigh.

"Snyder, huh?" he said haughtily. "Now I'm _really_ glad I didn't have my way with ya. I wouldn't want to touch anythin' that crooked ol' man has."

His words cut deep. He had a way of doing that very easily. It only added to my already harsh pain.

I watched him walk off in large strides into the foggy night. More than anything, I wished he would come back.

Scratch that— more than anything, I wanted to go _with_ him.

-

**Please review.  
Signed,  
--RedRogue**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

-

I stood there, in the middle of the road, watching Spot Conlon walk away. I was torn between two worlds: the one I had always known, and the one the boasted of freedom.

I envied Spot, for having that freedom, and knowing it would always be there to walk back to. He was a man who knew who he was. Where he wanted to go, he would go. It was as simple as that.

Anne called after me to come back with her to the teahouse. Back to that life. Back to Snyder, who was surely still waiting to claim me for the first time. It was such an unappetizing fate.

Anne kept calling, and soon Spot stopped off in the distance to see what was going on with me.

Why couldn't I go back? Why couldn't I follow Anne back to what had been my life for as long as I had known? Because, like a child, I was dreaming of greener pastures. I was left wondering if I had a choice. For the first time in my life, did I have control over my own fate?

I weighed my options. If I left with Conlon, I would lose my job, my home, and my whole current life. I would never be famous, I would never see the stage, and I would be a pauper on the streets like him for the rest of my days.

But I would be free. I might get to see my daughter one last time. I would no longer have to bed strangers. I would not be some toy. I would be an actual woman, who had her own say in what she did. It was a dream that was too hard to ignore.

So I took up my large Can-Can dress, and ran after Spot. Anne was greatly confused, calling after me desperately, but I would not have turned back for anything she said.

"What're you doin'?" Spot asked harshly when he saw me running up to him. I didn't answer, just stared at the long road before me and kept right on walking. I wasn't going to allow him to protest.

"I _said_, what're you _doin_'?"

"I am going to find my daughter," I replied very simply, keeping my eyes straight ahead like a military man.

"And you expect me to just take you in?"

"I do not see the problem."

"The problem, toots," Spot chuckled at my stupidity. "Is that I live with a buncha ruffian, ratatat, miscreant _boys_. You're going to get the hell raped out of you."

"I assure you, that is not something I am a stranger to. If that is the price I have to pay for staying there, so be it. But I am _not_ going back."

I saw him gaze at me strangely out of the corner of my vision. He saw quickly I was very set on the matter, and didn't seem to find a point in arguing it.

"I have an idea of where your little goil might be," Spot said in an abrupt change of subject. "I'll take you there in the mornin'."

I was surprised at his sudden spark of kindness, but thought it best not to question it. I was even afraid to thank him, lest he realize he was being nice to me and change his mind.

So I followed him into the dark night, on the long walk to Brooklyn. I recognized a few landmarks, having walked this path once before. I suspected I might know the path well enough to walk it on my own.

Spot didn't speak for most of the journey, except for the occasional commands of "turn here" or "go this way". All to soon, we made it to the front door. It was a familiar brick building, the same lodging house I had been taken to before.

"You follow me," Spot commanded seriously. "And don't wander off."

He opened the door, and immediate hoops and hollers announced his arrival.

"Eh, put a lid on it!" Spot shouted back. 'Shut up, all a' youse!"

He waved their noise level down by motioning with both his hands.

"Alright," he called to them. "This here broad," he motioned to me, and I saw the men's eyebrows raise, and whispers followed. "She's going to be stayin' here for tonight. If I catch _any_ a' youse givin' her a hard time, someone had better let me know…"

Spot looked at me and looked at me with mischievous eyes.

"Because I wouldn't want to miss it."

Laughs erupted, but I just frowned at Spot.

I was no fool. I knew what he was trying to do. He didn't want me here, and he was trying to scare me into leaving. I would give him no such luck.

"Where am I sleeping?" I demanded instead, folding my arms and sighing indignantly.

He spread his arms open to the space he walked upon, as if the entire floor was my bed.

"Pick someplace. Do I look like I care?"

With that he marched up the stairs, probably to crash in his own bedroom. I was left standing, alone, in a room full of men, staring at me like I was Santa Claus.

"Heya, babe," a redhead said flirtatiously. "You can stay in _my_ bed if you want."

"You'll have to wait until tomorrow, Chip," another boy stepped forward. "Because tonight, she's sleeping with _me_."

"Heya, sweetface," another came at my right, sliding an arm around my shoulder. "Let's see what you're hiding under all that dress, huh?"

He made a grab at my sleeve, to which I quickly pulled away and slapped him hard on the jaw. He was stunned, but anger quickly replaced his shock, and he made to fight back.

"Goddamn whore!" he scowled, swinging a hand to slap me back, but I ducked under it just in time, and while I was under him, I kneed him in-between the legs. He groaned and doubled over. Once the others had seen what I had done to one of their own, they also came at me with violent intentions. I cowered back, unknowing what to do. One grabbed the back of my bustle, another pulled my hair. Just as I opened my mouth to let out a scream, I saw fists coming at them, driving them all back.

"HEY!" Spot shouted at all of them like they had deliberately disobeyed him. "I thought I was bunkin' with grown _men_, not a bunch of stupid droolin' _babies_! Go to bed, you're keepin' me up!"

Then Spot turned to me, a threatening look in his eyes.

"And if I _ever _see youse touch one a' my boys again, I'll kill ya myself."

I got his point quickly. His temper still hot, he dragged me up the stairs and threw me into a storage closet, and slammed the door after me, leaving me in pitch black. Not knowing what else to do, I curled my dress above me into a pillow, and closed my eyes to sleep. Unexpected tears began to flow of what I had gotten myself into. I had to come to terms with the fact that my life would never be the same.

-

"You there," said a voice above me. I felt a nudge from a boot in my back. I stirred in my sleep, and forced my eyes to focus on the man above me.

"You think this is some hotel?" the gentle voice continued, trying hard to sound mean. "Time to check out."

I was expecting to see Spot. Instead, I saw some old man, with glasses and a white hair. He was hunched over in his old age, a mole sticking out of his cheek. He had an abnormally large chin and nose as well.

I scrambled up quickly. The man seemed impressed by the fact that I was a woman, which was probably something he wasn't used to seeing.

"You belong to Spot, my dear?"

I hated the term 'belong'. So I denied it.

"No."

The man seemed pleased with that answer.

"In that case…" he said, stepping fully inside the closet and turning to close the door behind himself. My heart jumped to my throat as the room slowly became darker from the only light source being closed up.

Suddenly, a steel-toed boot stepped between the door and the doorway, stopping it from fully closing. A firm hand followed, forcing the door back open.

"Ease up, ya horny ol' coot," Spot commanded in a lighthearted voice, patting the old man on the shoulder. Spot turned to me. "This is Gerry, the head of the lodge house. He's lonely."

I gulped, still trying to get over that sudden wave of panic that had come over me.

"Been a while since I had me a woman," Gerry admitted sadly through his weak, elderly voice. "I'm still as wild as a stallion, though."

The crooked old man winked at me.

"Yeah, thanks, Gerry," Spot said, herding the old man out. Spot turned back to me and said:

"So, ya ready?"

He acted like nothing was out of the ordinary, and that whole matter was business as usual. I frowned. I tried to play along.

"Ready for what?"

"We're goin' to find your goil, a' course," Spot spat back. "Did ya forget so soon?"

-

**Please review.  
Signed,  
--RedRogue**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

**Chapter 8:**

-

Spot handed me some old clothes to wear, very masculine and loose. Far from what I was accustomed, to be sure. The white cotton shirt was like wearing a potato sack, while the pants fit like two tents. The black suspenders barely held them upright. As soon as I was outfitted properly to Spot's standards, we were off.

Spot knew his way around the city; that was for certain. It seemed there was little about the city that Spot was not intimately familiar with. Everyone knew his name. Everyone let him do whatever he willed, go wherever he pleased. It was like followed behind a nobleman or king. In all essence, it was true enough.

Spot didn't speak much in travel, until he reached a clear street that was rather abandoned. I was dying to ask him why he came to the teahouse, when he said he hated whores…

"My debt with you is building up," I announced. "First saving me, now saving my daughter, letting me stay the night at your boarding house. It is most appreciated."

"Well, don't go screamin' it from the rooftops, lady, it'll give me a bad name."

"Right, of course," I nodded. "I'm just a little confused as to why you bother."

"_I'm_ a little confused as to why you _question_ those who are helpin' ya."

"Fair enough," I agreed.

Spot began to do his face-paced walk, and I had to trot a bit to keep up. My eyes to the cobblestone street, I let my breath out in the form of quick words:

"Do you find me attractive at all, Spot?"

Spot halted in his tracks rather abruptly, so I put on the brakes as well. My breath caught in my throat as a moment of silence came, my heart beating out of hope and fear. Spot let out a loud, frustrated groan, throwing his hands into the air, then turned to glare at me.

"God, woman, money and sex are not the only currencies, ya know."

"They are in the world _I_ live in," I readily replied. "And that does not answer my question."

"Eh, you're alright."

"Just alright?"

"Don't push it."

I fought a grin, and Spot continued on his way with me at his heels. My excitement was in my throat, fogging my mind into bliss.

"Is that why you help me? Because you are fond of me?"

Spot pretended he didn't hear this. I decided to let it go, since I seemed to be making him angry.

At length, we reached a building with very high walls and an iron barred gate. A sign nearby claimed it was a safehouse of some sort, called the Refuge. Little did I know what it really was.

"This is as far as I go," Spot said. "Go in and give 'em your daughter's name. They'll tell you if she's in there or not."

I did as I was instructed. A few guards let me in the gate, and escorted me to the main office. I asked for my daughter, and they sifted painfully slow through their many files, searching for her.

"Her first name is Mei, you said?" the young receptionist boy asked. I nodded.

"Yes, here it is," the boy stepped off his stool and closed the drawer to the filing cabinet. "She's here all right. Doesn't say what's she's in for though, or her age. How old did you say she was?"

"She didn't."

It was there I came face-to-face with my most revered client. Warden Snyder.

"Jade, my dear." Snyder came through the office door with outstretched arms. "It is most unexpected to see you."

I could see the lie in his eyes. Something was not right here.

"They say my daughter is here--"

"Yes, of course," Snyder agreed. "Come to my office, and we'll continue this discussion properly."

His guiding hand on my back urged me to the door, and I took a seat before his desk while he closed the door. I was starting to get a broader, eviler outlook on Warden Snyder, as the pieces of the puzzle came together. Something told me he was the one who kidnapped Mei in the first place.

"She safe, you must not worry," he said in a softer voice so the receptionist boy wouldn't overhear. I sat up straighter in my seat.

"Where is she?! What have you done with her?"

Warden Snyder smiled in a signature eerie fashion, pacing in a circle around my chair, like a stalking lion.

"I've sent her away, to a boarding school, where she will be adopted by the government and given a full education. At my influence, of course. She is no longer your concern."

"She is my daughter, she will always be my concern!" I shot back angrily. "And you had no right to thief her from me!"

"Shh…" Snyder coaxed. "Such harsh words, considering the incredible gift I've given little Mei-Li. She now has what you could never have given her. A future. Or did you want her to end up just like you?"

I bit my lip and began to see things Snyder's way. Though I knew Snyder was really being selfish, trying to get the child out of the way and have me all to himself, I couldn't help but be grateful. Mei-Li really was better off… but at my maternal heart's expense. I hated to lose her.

"Now you will have more time to focus on your career, and perhaps secure a future of your own…" Snyder hissed. "I've taken an interest in you, Jade. And my interest, you'll find, can be _very_ beneficial."

-

I walked out as one defeated, my shoulders low, my steps dragging. The barred gate slammed behind me, and Spot rushed up to meet me. I was surprised he'd bother sticking around.

"What happened? Is she in there?" he demanded answers.

"She's been sent away to school," I replied. "Snyder arranged it."

"_What_?" Spot clenched his cane and furrowed his brow. "He just did that to--"

"--I know why he did it," I interrupted impatiently. "And as long as I stay in his good graces, so does Mei. Which means I have to go back to the teahouse, so if you would kindly direct me back."

"You're just going to take this from him? Let him have his way, with you taking it lying down? _Literally_?"

I gulped back a sudden lump in my throat at this.

"I have no choice, Spot."

Spot frowned for a moment, then seemed to remember that he was not supposed to care.

"Fine. Go be a whore. It makes no difference to me."

"Don't call me that."

"Why not? It's what you are."

"It's insulting. I don't like it."

"You're a whore."

"You're a street-rat."

"You have sex for money."

"You're a power-hungry asshole who is worth less than the dirt on Snyder's shoes!"

"And that works for me! I can handle that! The fact is, that you can't handle being a whore."

I glared at him and stepped close to his face.

"You have no _idea_ what I can handle."

That made him quiet. I took a step back, and a breather. I was a little surprised at my burst of bravery, and he seemed to be too.

"Now, if you will _kindly_ direct me _back_."

He pointed east, his eyes mocking me with cynicism and spite. I frowned at his antic, still glaring with resentfulness. Utterly done with his insulting and lack of consideration, I walked off in the direction he pointed in, knowing I would just have to find my way back on my own. I was going to have to do a lot of things on my own from now on. Without him, without my daughter. And though I was greatly heavy in heart because of this revelation, I also was strangely empowered. Without Mei, I had a larger sense of freedom. Knowing she was safe and well put my heart at ease, and I knew it was time to start focusing on my career. I had a lot to catch up on it, since I had so abruptly abandoned it a day ago, but it was only a day, and I knew it would still be forgiven if I hurried.

I walked into the teahouse to see workers all around, men with tools and moving large pieces of wood. Head Maid practically seized me, asking me all kinds of questions, but I could barely hear her through the noise of the construction.

"What's all this?" I asked her. She waved for us to head backstage, and I followed her.

"A few of our clients have made generous endowments to this facility. They want to make you the main attraction, Jade. You would know this if only you had been here! Where have you been?"

I didn't answer her, still rattled by it all. I peeked through the curtain to spy on what the workers were changing.

"Go upstairs. I had enough of you," Head Maid waved me away. "Don't you ever disappear again."

"Yes, Head Maid," I replied, bowing slightly, before heading off.

"And Jade?" she called after me. I paused near the left wing, to turn and face her again.

"Yes, Head Maid?"

"Mei has been taken away to school. You be sure to thank the Warden for that properly tomorrow."

I gulped, but forced my fearful thoughts aside.

"Yes, Head Maid."

-

The Warden did not show up the next day. News of a street fights with the sweatshop and newsie boys had broken out, another territory battle and Warden was right there in a sweep of underage incarcerations. I couldn't help but wonder if Spot had planned it, if he had somehow known the Warden was coming to claim me that night… I tried hard not to dwell on it, but it amused me to think such. I was all to happy for the event to be stalled, but I knew it was only a postponement of the inevitable.

-

**Please review.  
Signed,  
--RedRogue**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

-

I put on my dress for the grand opening of our new show. The outfit was all red and gold glitter pizzazz, with netted tights and high heels. All of the others were already performing onstage, the audience cheering and the music raging. I was to make my debut in mere moments. I powdered the sweat on my brow, the large puff in my hand shaking from nervousness. Snyder was out there, to keep an eye on his investment, I supposed. Then surely, I would be expected to meet him in a private room upstairs afterward.

I stared at myself in the mirror, Spot's words replaying in my head over and over again:

_You're just going to take this from him? Let him have his way with you taking it lying down? Literally…?_

_The fact is, that you can't handle being a whore…!_

He was right, as always, and I couldn't stand it. My breath ran away from me, and I clutched the sides of my vanity desk in an attempt to get it back. I had to let this infatuation for Spot go. I had to not care what he said. I had to forget everything.

"Hey," said a voice from the doorway. I looked up at my mirror, and saw Spot leaning on my doorframe. He was dressed in his nice tux, his hair slicked back to where he was almost unrecognizable again.

I was on my feet in an instant.

"Spot!" I said with more joy than I could control. "What are you doing here? I'm about to go on…"

"I know, but uh…"

"I've been so worried, with the territory wars going on in Brooklyn, I was wondering how you were…"

"I'm fine, but listen…"

I saw a strange look in his eyes. His seriousness was natural, but there was a sense of discomfort about him that I hadn't seen before.

"What is it?" I asked softly.

Spot rolled his eyes in frustration and glanced at the wall to his left.

"Look, I, uh… I guess I'm sorry. About, you know, yesterday. Sayin' those things. I know I hurt ya."

I was floored.

"You came to tell me that you're… _sorry_?"

"But that's not all the reason why I came… I…"

He shifted in his stance and still refused to look me in the eye. This was very difficult for him, though I knew he must have rehearsed it to exhaustion from the way he spoke. His words, though fumbled by his treacherous tongue, were very precise and practiced.

"I came to tell you that…"

"Jade, you're on!" Charlotte called from the hall.

"Just a moment, Charlie!" I called back. "Go on, Spot, please."

"Just that…"

"Jade, really, you have to go…!" Charlotte seemed wavering in her voice, almost frightened.

"Spot, please, say what you were going to say," I begged.

Spot seemed to have lost his nerve.

"Nothin'. Good luck on your show."

He turned to leave. And he ran straight into Head Maid.

"WHO IS THIS?" Head Maid bellowed. I gasped. Spot stiffened.

"Head Maid, I can explain…" I said quickly.

"A boy! In your _dressing room_?!" Head Maid was livid.

"I'm sorry for any confusion," Spot said with a high-pitched, snooty voice, straightening his tie and holding out his hand. "Please, let me to introduce myself. My name is Joseph Pulitzer… _Junior_. I've seen Jade onstage before and she invited me back to discuss an… investment. Maybe even a story in the _World_."

Head Maid's face softened, slowly but surely, as she digested these words.

"Mr… Pulitzer!" she exclaimed, grabbing his hand and shaking vigorously. "How could I be so rude, yes… I'm afraid Jade is needed onstage for now, but I'm sure she would be happy to further discuss this with you… later."

"Yes, of course," Spot nodded his agreement. "Though, if I'm to stay, I'll be needing a private box, you understand. Too many people might recognize me."

Or Snyder would, I realized. What a smart boy.

"Of course, of course, anything you require," Head Maid said with assurance, leading him off. He took a last look at me over his shoulder and winked with a smirk. I could only smile back at his flaunting cleverness.

I entered the show from stage right, atop a wagon that was being pulled by a stagehand costumed like a tiger. I sang in my native language, to the music of twanging sitars. My glamorous joke of a Chinese robe was reflecting off every spotlight on me, so I was a blinding sight. When the timing called for it, I shed the robe as rehearsed, letting the tiny red glitter dress show underneath. The crowd hooted and hollered at the display, a sure hit.

But I only cared about one audience member, and he was sitting in a box to the left. I glanced up at Spot as I danced. I could see his grin very clearly. It made my heart miss a beat, though I managed to keep my feet on time. I grinned back. He saw, and it only made his smile grow.

Snyder sat in the box directly below him, and I noticed him smiling at me like he thought my affectionate gazes were directed at him. I could only play along.

As I posed for the finale, the music ceased immediately. Men threw flowers and money at me, even diamonds. I was a success. I looked up to Spot to see if he was clapping, but he was already gone. My moment of glory and happiness was over. As I saw Snyder was clapping violently in approval, my mind came back down from the clouds. Back to business. It was time to sleep with the Warden.

Back in my dressing room, I got into my best lingerie, an emerald corseted number with black stockings. I slipped on a sheer robe for effect, and made my way to the stairs.

My room was at the end of the hall. I dreaded it with everything in me, knowing what lay beyond it. I was glad that Spot would never witness this. I would find him as soon as this was all over, and have him finish what he was so determined to tell me before. I could imagine what heavenly words he would tell me. Could it be possible he had feelings for me? It was a fantasy I was glad to keep in the forefront of my mind. It was sure to help me through what I was about to do.

I took a deep breath and reached for the door.

Only to see… _Spot_.

For the second time tonight, I was astounded by his unexpected presence. He came up to me and pulled me in the room quickly, closing the door behind me.

"What was it you wanted to say?" I asked, assuming that's why he was here. Instead, he put his mouth to mine, proceeding to slowly devour it. He let go to only to let us breathe for a moment, perhaps waiting for a reaction from me.

"Oh," I replied with an understanding nod.

"I had Charlotte direct the Warden to the wrong room," Spot explained, holding my round cheeks in his palms firmly.

"But Head Maid listens in from the room across the hall…" I warned. "She'll be expecting to hear some… _noise_… from in here."

Spot smirked at this.

"I think we can arrange that."

His cold, stern face returned, and he took a step away from me.

"That is, if your offer still stands… I know you have sex all the time, and it's not that spectacular a thing to you… and I'm not saying it is for _me_, or that seeing the show made me _want_ you or anything… or that it will make us even, because it won't…"

I cleared the space between us, tilting my head to lean for another kiss. He took the offer gladly.

-

**Please review.  
Signed,  
--RedRogue**


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